Ghosts
by CherryMountain
Summary: Aiden is out on patrol on another sleepless night when suddenly he sees a ghost from his past. Now it's his turn to help her, and hopefully, have a happily ever after. How I wish the game had ended. Spoilers
1. Ghost

**Explanation for this fic: I'm a girl, so expect me to want a romantic ending to this intense game. The game already has a perfect ending, but I kept expecting Clara to still be alive, having faking her own death and popping up after the credits. When she didn't, I started writing. This is the result. **

**Rated T for hints towards sex and rape, not in that order. Set at least eight months after the end of the game. I hope everyone enjoys!**

* * *

Aiden Pearce was having one of those nights. It was a normal occurrence; he couldn't sleep, because the nightmares wouldn't allow it. If his eyes did fall shut, it was only for an hour or so. Faces of the ones he lost, along with those that he had killed, would shortly wake him up. And so, feeling like he had to do _something_, he patrolled the streets.

He had hacked enough people to create a list of criminals that didn't deserve to be on the streets. Nothing as big as his late adventures, just drug dealers, scam artists, murderers, sex traffickers and scandalists.

But not tonight. Tonight, he heard a woman's scream in the park, and he bolted. He got there in under a minute, but he had heard enough. A man was over her, tugging her to the ground, telling her that it wouldn't hurt, and from her cries of help, Aiden knew the man's intention. He didn't need to profile the man to know; Aiden had seen his kind before. Too many times.

The vigilante pulled out his retractable baton, and with a single swing, the man was tossed aside, unconscious.

The woman- a blonde- struggled to stand, but Aiden stepped back. The woman wouldn't be able to accept another's man touch, not for a while. She would probable shy away from him if he didn't give her space.

He removed his hat, slipping it into his coat pocket, so she wasn't intimidated by him further. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

Once she had her bearing's, she immediately backed away. From Aiden, from the unconscious man, from the park, from the situation itself. He saw the fear in her eyes, suspicious of him. "Th-thank you," she muttered, before she took off.

Aiden let out a sigh, and stuffed his hand into his pocket. "You're welcome," he whispered, watching as her silhouette disappeared down the poorly lit street. His hand came back out with a small baggy, filled with small greens. The vigilante leaned over the unconscious criminal and reached into the man's pocket, leaving the marijuana there. At least the man wouldn't be able to hurt anyone for a while. Aiden searched his other pockets, then found the man's phone.

Dispatch answered within a few seconds. "911, what is your emergency?"

Aiden raised his voice an octave, so hopefully they wouldn't recognize his voice. He could always go back and erase the recorded call later, so there wasn't really a point. "There's a man, here, in the park." He made it seem as if he were scared, now. "He looks like a druggie. I think he's going to-" Aiden cut himself off, but kept the call up. He knew the police would trace the call. The vigilante dropped the open line into the grass, hearing the dispatcher asking if he was still there. He wasn't.

Aiden only got about twenty feet from the unconscious criminal when he heard someone call out to him.

"That was a nice shot. You only had to hit him once."

Aiden looked over to the voice, startled. He didn't immediately recognize the woman's appeareance, but he knew that voice- that accent- anywhere. He could never forget her voice.

If he hadn't heard her speak, Aiden didn't think he would have been able to recognize her. Being in the dark park wouldn't have helped either. The right side of her head was still buzzed, but her left was covered in black hair, falling to the side, barely touching her shoulder. Her makeup was lighter, thinner, but her eyes still stood out, accented by the small patch of white hair in her bangs. She was actually wearing a bra- Aiden could tell- under the white t-shirt that covered the tattoos that he knew were on her chest. She still wore the leather jacket and black jeans, but all her jewelry was absent, including her facial piercings, all but her ear piercings. She looked different, but Aiden knew her voice. It was one of the many that haunted his nightmares.

"Clara," he whispered, and it felt good to say her name out loud. She revealed herself from the tree and approached him. Aiden openly stared at her, because how was she here? Was he hallucinating? He wouldn't doubt it.

She gave him a small grin. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she said teasingly, appreciating his face without a hat shadowing it.

"How-" he started, but he couldn't get himself to ask the question. It was too much. He couldn't open the wounds, not if this wasn't real.

Clara folded her arms over her chest, losing the smile. "I didn't think I would get another chance to disappear, so I faked my death," she explained. "Changed my look a little."

Aiden shook his head, then closed his eyes. Flashes of memory, of gunshots, a shouted "Clara!" and blood clouded the back of his eyelids, and Aiden visibly cringed from them. "You were dead…"

"It seemed that way, yes. But, Aiden, open your eyes." He did, and she gestured to herself. "I'm right here."

The vigilante nodded, blinking. She _was_ there, wasn't she? It wasn't a dream. There was too much detail. This was real. _She_ was real.

"You don't have to do this alone anymore, Aiden," she whispered, stepping towards him, and he caught her scent. He instinctively leaned towards her, and a second later he had wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. His eyes closed in relief as his nose brushed against her hair and her felt her hand slide up her back. Oh, how he had longed to hold her.

Aiden wanted to ask her where she'd been, what she had been doing, why she hadn't come back, but those questions could be asked later. She was here- alive- and that was all that mattered to him at the moment.

Clara pulled away, the hacker glancing shyly up at the man. "Actually, I could use your help."

Hearing those words- words he had once said to her, in a very intimate way- made a force in his gut turn. He couldn't tell what it meant before she was moving again.

"But first," she murmured, before she was in front of him, and her lips crashed into his. She held his face as she kissed him slowly but sweetly, causing Aiden to melt into her embrace as he held onto her waist. When she pulled away and settled back onto flat feet, the vigilante grinned happily.

She needed his help this time, and just that thought brought so many questions to mind. He didn't know her as well as he wanted to, but he had a feeling he was going to find out a lot about her. At least he could say that now.

Aiden reached out and grabbed her hand, then began to gently pull her back toward his apartment complex. "The cops will be here any minute," he told her, still grinning. Clara returned the grin, and allowed herself to follow him. Feeling her presence next to him brought him comfort, and relief. Aiden felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, knowing that no, he would not have to do this alone anymore.

"What is it that you need?" He heard himself asking as they crossed a not-so-busy street. He looked down to see her reaction, but hadn't expected a sly grin to appear on her face.

"It can wait until tomorrow."


	2. Panic

**A/N: At first I was hesitant to continue the story, but I've gotten great response. I'm 100% in on this story! I'm so glad everyone loves it; I plan on giving the two a little adventure, and hopefully it lives up to everyone's standards and I don't let anyone down. Thanks again for all of your comments, I _will_ continue the story. ****It wasn't exactly what I was expecting, but I give you some angst. The ending is a little rushed, and no, Aiden did not get any action, although it was hinted at last chapter, hehe. Enjoy!**

Once the two hackers were in Aiden's apartment, Clara immediately excused herself to use his bathroom. When she came out, she smiled at the sight of him. The vigilante had barely got his coats and shoes off before he had collapsed on the large bed, his feet hanging off the bottom and his head barely touching the pillow.

The goth stepped towards his sleeping form and picked up his clothing and shoes, then moved them away from the bed. Clara's jacket followed his, and soon enough, after turning off the lights, she lay next to him. She stayed on top of the covers with him and just stared at him as he slept.

She had been gone too long, had missed his small jokes and remarks, and his voice. It was a soothing voice, low and strong, yet bruised. He had been through a lot, losing his niece, and trying to save the rest of his family. He had been through a lot in general.

Clara had spent her time away doing jobs, none of them close to as entertaining as Aiden had been. At least no one was kidnapped out of the city where she had worked, or no one important. There, she just hadn't felt home, like there was somewhere else she should be. It wasn't until that moment, when she was staring at Aiden, that she realized she now knew why. Aiden was _here_, not _there_.

She didn't need to think about it anymore; she was here, back in Chicago. She and Aiden were a team again, and hopefully, he would be able to help her. Hopefully, she could stay, because she wanted to.

Soon enough, Clara felt her eyelids grow heavy as she listened to the calm, dark room. Aiden's breathing was a pace keeper, and in minutes, she had fell asleep to his rhythmic breaths.

* * *

The goth woke later slowly, sensing something was off. She was cold, which was a direct giveaway. She always slept under the covers, and she certainly didn't have air conditioning.

Then she remembered that she was at Aiden's apartment, and the thought immediately sent a smile to her face. Aiden Pearce.

Clara blinked; there was no warmth next to her, which meant that she was alone on the bed. She looked up and took in the room around her, dimly lit by the moon and street lights outside. It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust, but finally she spotted the man at the open window, leaning out it. No wonder it was cold.

Clara stood, her small form barely making a sound as she did so, but her bare feet slapped against the hard wood floor as she approached him. It was only when she was about to reach out and touch him did she realize he was shaking.

She blinked the sleep from her eyes and took a closer look. His shoulders were indeed shaking, but not from the cold. She heard his shaky breaths, saw the small puffs of air that left his mouth when they hit the cold spring air, and could almost feel the worry and anxiety that rolled off him.

"Aiden?" She asked softly, hoping to grab his attention. He bowed his head, his shoulders giving a start. From shock or distress, Clara didn't know.

After a long moment and a shaky sigh, he slowly turned away from the window. He kept his head down as he did so, and it was only until he was completely turned toward her when he met her worried gaze.

She almost gasped at what she saw in his eyes. There was pain, guilt, regret, and most importantly, panic. Then he cringed, and Clara stepped forward to hold him as he supported himself with the windowsill.

Clara didn't know what had gotten him this upset, but she knew that she hated seeing him like this. She knew she would do whatever to make him feel better, and at the moment, the only way she knew how was to show him that she was there for him. Hopefully, he would know that she was going to keep him safe from whatever demons he faced.

Aiden's breaths came out heavier and labored, and Clara immediately knew it was a panic attack of some kind. He needed to calm down, but he wasn't thinking straight. How was she going to help him?

"They're too much," he groaned out, once again cringing at whatever flashes of nightmares he was seeing. His voice was stressed and pained, too loud in the otherwise quiet room.

The goth reached up towards his face and grabbed it, steadying him. "Aiden, look at me. I'm right here," she told him, waiting for the man to open his eyes. His breaths were still struggled, but cautiously, he opened his eyes, piercing blues of agony staring at her.

"Focus on the sound of my voice," she told him, because she didn't know what else to do. He needed an anchor, so why not her. Aiden closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, though it was still ragged. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and Clara thought it was working.

"We're in your apartment, safe. No one is going to hurt you- _nothing_ is going to hurt you. They're just images- they're not real."

He seemed to nod, and his breathing became more controlled, more forced. It was working; whatever he was fighting, he was winning.

"That's it," she whispered with a sigh of relief. "Come back to me."

His eyes shot open to stare at her again, and she gave him a small smile. It seemed to do the trick, because he wrapped his arms around her, and they just stood there. He struggled to calm his breathing, and she tried to sooth him, holding onto him with as much intensity as he was her. She had an idea of what was causing this in him, and part of it was probably because of her. Maybe, if she had come back sooner, he would have been better. She could have been able to help him earlier, and maybe he wouldn't have gotten this bad. Maybe it was her fault.

It took a while to calm him down, his breathing steady and most of his emotions in check. They settled down onto the edge of the bed, and Aiden released her. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he rubbed his face, then bowed his head with his elbows resting on his knees.

"There is nothing to be sorry about," she told him softly, watching his hands as they shadowed his face from the window. In time, he would tell her what was happening in his head, but she couldn't push him. She knew for certain that they were nightmares that kept him up, but did he always have the panic attacks?

Clara turned away, trying to think of something that could take the focus from him. "I had insomnia when I was a child. My father would stay up with me." She frowned, not remembering clearly; she had been too young. She looked around the room for a moment, noticing that it was bare, unlike his last apartment that had a puzzle of his niece's attack, and information involving CTOS across the walls and tables. In this apartment, there was only his equipment, and maybe small clumps of information that was good to have around.

"To pass the time, we use to do crosswords," Clara told him, going back to what she was telling him.

"Is that how you became smart?"

Clara looked down at him and saw the small grin of amusement across his hidden face. He was back, or at least most of him.

Of course, it didn't last long. Clara had to tell him why she was here. To be with him, yes, but also because she needed his help. An organization was about to make the world go dark, and she had been gaining information on it.

And of course, said organization was smart, smart enough to finally, after weeks, sift through her firewalls and track her down. She just hadn't expected them to show up so quickly.

The door to the apartment slammed open, and the two jumped up. Fear coursed through Clara, because she immediately knew it was them, and that they were here for her. And she had dragged Aiden into this.

Aiden didn't move fast enough before the four of them pulled out their guns, aiming them at the two hackers. Clara immediately put her hands up in surrender, because she had seen what these men could do, and it was no point. Aiden hadn't, and so tried to reason with them. He had no idea who they were, which was probably why it was no good.

"Now, gentlemen-" he began, but the man closest to him, the only one in a suit, swung his gun at him. "Don't hurt him!" She told them, but Aiden was already out cold. She took in a deep breath, earning glares from the four men.

The one in the suit pulled out a cell phone. "We have a problem. She has a friend." He pointed his gun at Clara as he listened intently, and after a moment said, "Yes." Then he nodded, and slipped the phone back into his jacket. "Bring him."

Two of the men grabbed Aiden, and Clara watched in horror as they dragged him out. That only left two of them with guns pointed at her, and she knew she was meant to follow. "I won't tell you anything if you hurt him."

The one in the suit took a step toward her, grabbing onto her thin arm with force. She didn't allow herself to show her pain. "Don't worry, sweetheart, we won't kill him. But if you don't cooperate, he might lose a finger."

She was dragged from the apartment, and she tried to remember as much as she knew on these people so she was prepared. She knew they would kill for their cause, so it would be wise to do as they said. The goth was surprised none of the other residents had noticed what was happening outside their homes.

They were all placed into a dark limousine, and Clara almost gasped as she was placed across from Aiden, with one of the men pointing a gun at his unconscious body. It was meant as a warning to her, she knew, but it still rattled her.

This was all her fault. She should have warned him, should have done something, put up extra security walls. But how had they spotted her? She had been so careful, she always had, but somehow they had found her, and at Aiden's. She shouldn't have gone to his apartment, because she hadn't known it was safe. It was all her fault.

The man in the suit shoved her in-between him and the other hired gun, and then they were off. She was still barefoot, and her arms were bare, which left her very uncomfortable under the gazes of the four men. She took the time in the ride to inspect them. They all had pistol, but one had an assault rifle. Though one was in a suit, another was white, in casual clothing, meaning a t-shirt and jeans, another looked like a gang member, dark skin, with baggy denim pants, a vest over a red t-shirt and a red bandana, and tattoos across his arms. The last one was also in more casual clothes, but in a leather jacket and jeans, but with combat boots. Was he ex-military? It wouldn't surprise her.

This organization, VicTECH, she had found out, had many business men involved, including a few drug dealers and weapons groups. These were probably the best men from these smaller businesses involved, thinking that they were going to run into trouble. Instead, they had found a young man and woman in an almost empty apartment. Their superiors will probably hate themselves knowing they had been hacked by a young woman.

Clara grimaced, but at least she knew she had a small chance at getting out of this. She wished she could contact someone, maybe Raymond, but knew she couldn't. Then she hoped that someone else was looking into VicTECH, and would see that she was in trouble. She hoped.


	3. Stuck

**A/N: Most of you are just telling me that you love the story so far, and all I can say to everyone is thank you for your kind words and encouragement!**

**Nina Vale: You're right, Aiden wouldn't be the reasoning type, but he has changed, I can say that much. When Jacks was scared of him, and Aiden wondering if he was a cold-hearted killer, I interpreted that he was going to change, and now he had. You'll see what I mean soon enough!**

**This is the first story that I'm writing chapter by chapter. Usually I finish a story, and then edit and publish by the weeks, and for some reason I'm taking things differently. I hope I don't accidently mess up, because this is new for me! And school is now officially over, so expect the updates to be, if not once a week, every other. I know it's short, but I'm giving you what I have so far because it's been so long. Enjoy! (Sorry for any spelling mistakes, I only re-read the first half, and will finish the rest some other time)**

Aiden woke to being punched in the face. He knew, because once he startled awake, he felt the blood in his mouth. He must have bit his tongue. He also felt the sudden burning on the left side of his face, and part of his cheek go numb, He immediately tossed his head to the side and spit out his blood before he could choke on it. Then he groaned against a bright light.

The hacker most certainly had been knocked unconscious, because he felt the dull ache in the back of his head, and a throbbing across his body, probably from landing on the floor without catching his own weight.

Once he came to his senses, he groaned from the light again as he tried to take in his surroundings. He was in some warehouse, a very old one. There was rust on all the support beams, and to the side, from where he spit, he could see rows of machines. Some were covered in thick sheets and dust, where others Aiden could see the giant holes from where parts had been taken out. It was like a graveyard of machines.

Beyond the machines, however, was life. There were people, silhouetted and lit by beams of light, and Aiden immediately recognized it as drugs. They were making drugs, cutting and weighing out sizes, and placing them in packaging. And there were guns.

He sighed, turning back to the large figure- silhouetted by the light- that had woken him. Then the man moved, leaving the area, and that was when he saw her.

Aiden immediately struggled, which was when he realized that he was strapped down to a chair by his ankles, wrists, and shoulders. He had thought the men last night had come for him, not Clara, but there she was across from him, similarly tied down.

She was probably six feet away, staring at him with this look of guilt and worry. He did a quick look over of her, and determined that she wasn't hurt, at least not on the outside and she didn't seem in pain.

What had he gotten them into? He couldn't think of anyone he had pissed off lately that would do this, not at the moment anyway. He had worked so hard, so long to change things, and now-

"Aiden," she said, cutting him off, catching his attention. "I can see the gears turning, but you did nothing wrong._ I_ got us into this." Aiden frowned, confused for a moment. "This is what I needed your help with."

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "No, Clara, what have you been doing?" He asked, confusion and worry leaking out of him as he stared at her, trying to figure everything out. "I thought you said you had started over. A fresh start. You were safe."

She shook her head softly, looking to the floor between them. "They're called VicTECH. I've been gathering intel on them for weeks, trying to take them down. Let's just say that they've hurt a lot of people."

Aiden blinked, looking down to the floor, trying to remember if he knew anything about VicTECH. And why- why would she put herself in danger if she had had a fresh start? He nodded, still looking to the floor, feeling the pain in his head grow. "We'll get through this," he told her, and then he suddenly coughed. "We'll get out of here, and then we'll leave. We can-"

Seeing her shift out of his peripheral vision caused him to pause, and he looked up at Clara. The woman was shaking her head, turned away, looking off past the lifeless machines. "They're… powerful. Even if we did get away, they'd find us again. And-" she cut herself off, turning back to him, searching his gaze. "They've hurt too many. They need to be taken down."

Aiden looked away, processing what she was saying. They did have to get out of here, but she wanted to come back and fight whoever they were, stop them. She wanted to become her own vigilante. Aiden would love to help take them down, help Clara, but he didn't know anything about VicTECH. Plus, they needed to get out of here first- wherever here was.

Aiden looked around, trying to spot a guard that might be watching them, but before he could begin to work up a plan, a voice, along with footsteps, interrupted him.

"Clara, my dear, it's been too long. Who's your friend, here?"

The man's voice was low, but it was also the type of voice that, without seeing their face, sounded really creepy, like he was going to burst into evil laughter at any moment. Aiden looked up to see a man in a white suit, with white hair, and he was clearly at least sixty, yet still in goof physical health. He was grinning from ear to ear, eyes gleaming as he took in Aiden strapped to the chair. Two men followed behind him, one in a well-dressed yet casual outfit, while the other looked like a gang member.

Clara struggled for a moment in her chair. "Don't hurt him, asshole."

The man's grin deepened, and he stepped between Aiden and Clara, his back to Aiden. "Tell me where the drive is, and I won't have to."

There was a long pause, one of which Aiden thought was a very, very bad sign. Pauses like that meant a stare down, and in this business, those never ended badly.

And then suddenly the man in the suit turned, shifted his feet, and swung his fist towards Aidens face, all in one swift motion. Pain radiated from his right side of his face, opposite where he had been punched not five minutes ago. Man was his face going to be bruised tomorrow.


	4. Tape

**A/N: Obviosuly, we don't know what Aiden is actually feeling in the game, but I did my best to make the emotions and what not seem as real as possible. I literally wrote this chapter two hours ago, so I hope he's not too OOC. I also listened to Battlestar Galactica music while writing it, mostly Kara Remembers, but it didn't really help. Bear McCreary is an amazing artist, though. More to come later in the week!**

"_Stop_!"

The word didn't sound right. It was muffled, twisted, and wavering. The end of it was clipped, cut off by a humming.

Aiden blinked, doing his best to focus, but it was difficult with the pounding in his head. The man had only punched him twice, but it didn't feel that way. Aiden tried to spit out more of his own blood, so that he could at least breath, but he didn't know if he succeeded or not, because the action caused more pain to spread throughout his head.

It felt like someone was putting a low setting of a blow torch to his face, burning his skin away and then scarring his skull underneath. He fought to push the pain away, to remember what was happening, but he couldn't see the room around him. Blinding white lights clouded his vision, causing pain, this time behind his eyes. Aiden closed them, trying to maybe push the pain away. For a moment, it seemed to work, but then he let out a soft cry as it sent more flames throughout his head once again.

He buried enough of the pain to ask himself why he got himself into these situations. Why did he endure this much pain, which produced scars and bruises, and left him questioning his sanity? Questioning everything about himself? Sometimes, he didn't even know how it all started, didn't know which event triggered him to enter these missions. Wasn't he just the vigilante that saved people from abuse, losing loved ones, and having a poor life?

Yes. He saved lives, and most of the time, one couldn't save lives without risking their own. He did endured the pain for a reason; to save others. But what about Clara? He didn't know what she had gotten into, not completely, but now he was a part of it. Unlike previous missions, now someone else's life was in danger other than his own. He had to think about saving her now, too, along with himself, and whoever else that had gotten themselves dragged into this.

As he was slowly pulled from his thoughts, the white light dimmed, enough so that he could take in his surroundings. His head still pounded, and he couldn't hear anything but the blood rushing through his head, but he could at least see. Aiden blinked, focusing on the area around him, and the first thing he noticed was that everything was sideways. He thought for a moment on what it could mean; was his chair knocked over, and was he still strapped to it? It took him awhile to realize that his cheek was touching the top of his shoulder. He blinked again, hard, focusing on lifting his head, and not on the pain that radiated through him with the motion.

There were a few men nearby, guards, but they stayed far enough away that they wouldn't interfere unless their boss, this man in white, was harmed. He took in a breath from the struggle of keeping his head upright. Man, the guy had a swing if he could make Aiden this uncoordinated. And he was older, too. It made him feel slightly weaker, but the vigilante was slowly recuperating. The pounding seemed to have dulled some, along with the effort of keeping his eyes open.

Clara was still strapped to a chair across from him, and, fortunately, she was unarmed, or at least she looked it. She was glaring up at the man in white that was now slowly pacing in front of her. He thought that maybe the man was talking, and that was what the low vibrating he heard was, with small pauses between. Then he saw her mouth move, and felt another vibrating in his ears, cutting off the first and replacing it with a slightly higher pitched one.

Aiden looked up, hoping that Clara was fine for the moment. He looked for any means of escape, and found only two that he could see: the shadowed doorway that looked to lead into offices, where these men had come from, or past the graveyard of machines and drugs through the bay doors. There were enough broken lights and shadowed areas that, if he did escape from his restraints, he and Clara could easily slip past the guards toward the bay doors and find a way out.

He looked down at his wrists, thinking of way to cut zip ties. The most obvious was a knife, or scissors, both of which Aiden didn't have on him. The next possible solution was to break the wooden chair, which would have been easier if his feet were free. Plus, his shoulders were held back against the chair, which made it even more difficult. Maybe if he could make his way over to Clara when this man left-

He gaze found its way back to the broken lights about ten feet away, cutting off his current thought, because a new one had popped into his head. Broken lights could mean many things, and one of them beings broken pieces of glass or plastic. He looked to the floor underneath the shattered light, hoping to find the piece of plastic that had covered it, or at least a piece of it. It could have a sharp edge.

He squinted, searching in the dark for what he imagined to be a clear rectangle, and it didn't help that doing so was hurting his eyes. As he searched, his gaze landed next to a machine, on a side table with tools scattered across it. There; it wasn't sharp plastic, but it would do. He wondered why someone would need a tape dispenser when they were working with a machine, but he was just glad he had found it. It would have a sharp end that would hopefully cut these zip ties.

Now, Aiden just had to figure out how to get over to the machine. The tape was sitting in the middle of the shadows, and even if Aiden managed to move his chair that way, it would take forever to maneuver through the machines, stools, boxes and columns. Forever meaning at least ten to fifteen minutes, because the tape was at least twenty feet away. And how would he get over there with these goons watching him? It wasn't a solid plan, and he didn't know if it would work.

He turned his attention back to Clara and the man in white when he began to hear their murmurs. Just as he looked to them, the man was looking at the goons, and he tilted his head in a gesture of _get moving_. All of them moved to the offices at once but one, who shifted his gun, which Aiden just realized he had. It was a rifle, and could easily take them out in seconds. Damn. He didn't know if they'd be able to get out of here at all without these men dumping them somewhere or killing them.

The man in white said one more thing to Clara, and Aiden caught a small piece of it, before he followed his men. It was hazy, and he didn't even know if he heard correctly, but it sounded bad. "… worth it… struggle while I kill him."

* * *

It was another few minutes before Aiden could actually hear, but he did catch Clara trying to talk to him. He had blinked and tried to speak, but he knew it had come out all garbled and quiet, mostly due to his now swollen jaw. It would die down in a few hours, but for now, he didn't think he could talk properly.

So Clara didn't either, and they both did their fair share of looking around. She was probably trying to find her own way out, but Aiden already had a plan. Make the goon disappear, get the tape dispenser, cut his and then Clara's restraints, and then make their way towards the bay doors. He calculated that, if he could actually do it, it could take up to a half an hour, depending on if the shadows would provide good enough cover, maybe less since he now felt stronger. It was always possible that they got caught, too.

Suddenly, Clara turned to him and spoke quietly. "I told him, Aiden."

He looked to her, lowering his brow in question.

Her pale blue eyes seemed to shimmer as she relaxed, defeated. "All of the information I have on him that could bring him down." She glanced at the man standing guard, who had pulled out a cell phone and seemed to be texting. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Well, part of it. I split it into three drives. When he gets back, he'll ask for the rest, and when he gets it, he's going to kill us." She shook her head, and Aiden felt that he understood. All the hard work, and now it was for nothing.

Aiden had been in near-death situations before, and it didn't bother him, not until he was about to die. But now, Clara was facing it with him, and he was fearful. He had already lost her once, and he didn't think he'd be able to do it again. He already had nightmares of Nicole, Jackson, and Lena, along with the day that Clara had supposedly faked her death, and he couldn't add this to the list. And now he was paranoid that he wouldn't just be pummeled with nightmares, but PTSD as well.

* * *

Aiden woke to his name being called. His eyes fluttered open, desperately trying to adjust to the light that shown down on him. He didn't remember falling asleep, but there was no other explanation. Even beat up this badly, Aiden had never passed out so easily before. He was angry at himself that he was so stunned by the beat down.

Clara was shifting in her chair, trying to move it. Seeing that he was awake, she tried to point with her head. "Behind you; that pole looks like it's connected to a furnace. Maybe it's hot enough to burn these ties off."

Aiden looked around for the guard, then tried to look around his shoulder. With one jump, he managed to turn his chair enough that he could spot what she was looking at. "Erm, 's too far away." He glanced around once more. "Where's he?"

Clara let out a frustrated sigh. "You're right." She, too, glanced around. "He went that way," she said, looking off toward where the drugs were. "There was a commotion. He went to check it out."

It couldn't be that easy, could it? Aiden couldn't think about it; he had a limited time to get to the tape dispenser.

His first few tries at shifting his chair were weak, but then he got the hang of it. He felt Clara's gaze on him, which only pushed him to perform the task. He was doing this for both of them.

It took a few minutes to reach the shadows, and by the time he reached them, his attempts at moving his entire chair in the restraints were weaker. His muscles were already tired, but he pushed himself. He got dizzy, and almost managed to fall over an abandoned toolbox, but eventually he got to the table where the tape sat. Thankfully he hadn't fallen on his way there, or he wouldn't have been able to make it to the table.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but he was panting, sweat clung to his back, and the pounding in his head had returned as he stared at the table. Two more shifts of the chair, and he was facing the table correctly. The tape sat near the edge, taunting him. He attempted to kick the table, to jostle the tape over the edge, but it just shifted all the papers on the table, and Aiden thought angrily about why wouldn't this VicTECH clear out the building? Why leave this stuff around? But it would be Aiden's savior, and he had no idea why he was angry at the tape.

He kicked out again, and when a pain jolted up his foot, looked down and remembered that he didn't have any shoes on. Aiden reached out with his hand instead, hoping he could pull the table down, but regretted doing so, because the corner it the arm of the chair, and he toppled over, followed by the rattling of papers and the clanking of metal.

It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, and when he opened his eyes, the world was sideways, but all he saw was the tape that lay right in front of him. He thought of nothing else but the situation at hand, and how lucky he was that it had landed in his reach.

The grinding of the chair against cement was loud and almost ear piercing, and he waited for a gun to appear at his temple at any moment. But it must have only been loud in his ears, probably because he was close to the sound, because he didn't hear any footsteps. And then the tape was right at his fingers, and if he wasn't gentle he'd move it further away, but he didn't have to worry about it because the dispenser was safely in his hands. With it in his hand, Aiden let out a huge sigh of relief, knowing that in just a minute they could be out of here.

He shifted the item in his grip, so that the teeth were pointed at his wrist. Once it was in the right direction, Aiden worked his wrist, awkwardly scrapping the dispenser against the plastic that bound him to the chair. He pushed, adding more strength, hoping it would help, but it was still completely awkward and after a moment his wrist cramped, and he almost dropped the tape already.

Aiden closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. _Focus, Pearce_, he told himself, feeling the air enter and exit through his nose. _People are relying on you_. He didn't exactly know how many people, but he believed Clara when she said that VicTECH hurt a lot.

He opened his eyes again and got back to work. After his fifth scrape across the plastic, he thought the metal was going to snap off the dispenser, but he felt the anxiety he didn't know he had release a death grip on his stomach when his wrist suddenly fell to the cement and he heard the snap of the plastic.

The rest of his restraints were easily removed, and he stood with only one cut to his wrist, a clear head, and a grin on his face.


End file.
